Bravery of the Clotpole
by castielsbee
Summary: Arthur goes on a reckless mission. Merlin, of course, follows. (Takes place after season 4; Merthur, of course;3 Parts)
1. Chapter 1

~~~Part One~~~

There's a small division between being brave and being an utter clotpole.

Arthur teetered on that very fine line.

Merlin firmly believed that Arthur was completely oblivious to this concept. This was an assumption that was proved when a villager from Camelot's outer border requested an audience with the King, pleading to him on her knees, begging for his help. Her village had been ransacked by a lone bandit, one who had reportedly killed over twenty people- her son, included, a boy of only four years. She begged Arthur for justice, and he accepted her quest.

Rather than send some guards to capture the bandit, though, Arthur held a meeting with the knights where he confidently stated that he would go after the criminal, himself, leaving no room for protests or argument. He said it would be dangerous to lower Camelot's guard when Morgana was out there waiting to strike. Arthur ordered those in the meeting to keep his absence secret, for word of his leave could prove fatal for the kingdom.

Later on, Merlin quite vocally complained that having the King of Camelot go out on a reckless mission was just as dangerous as sending a few knights.

Of course, though, Arthur ignored him, sheathing his sword into its scabbard as he prepared himself within the walls of his chambers, where Merlin had been trying to convince him to send a knight or two on his crazed quest.

"So are you coming or not?" Arthur had finally asked, looking up and eyeing Merlin.

It was hardly a question, really.

Although what Arthur was doing could be seen as admirable, Merlin opted to simply call him a dollophead.

Merlin tried to give his king some credit, though- it was his duty to protect his kingdom, and sending a group of knights to take care of the plentiful amount of situations that arose could be deemed as cowardly. And though Arthur was many, _many_ things, he was not a coward.

Just very, _very_ stupid.

However, Merlin supposed he, himself, was just as stupid. Because although Arthur went on many dangerous and idiotic quests to defend Camelot, Merlin always found himself trotting not too far behind on a blasted palace horse, his bum sore from hours of relentless riding through uneven forest terrain.

"It's getting dark," Merlin spoke up. They hadn't spoken for hours. Arthur was in one of his moods.

"I can see that," Arthur grumbled back. He was absolutely irate, having followed a trail that seemed to never end. At this point, they both wanted to go back to Camelot and sleep in a nice, warm bed. Merlin knew that was not about to happen, though. For Arthur's stubbornness was an unconquerable feat.

Merlin tried to ease into his next comment, waiting for the tension to settle just the slightest bit before he spoke, again, "The trail will be lost soon, Sire. It would be best if we stop and make camp now, lest we wind up following a blind lead."

Arthur sighed, and Merlin could feel him relent. "I'm the king, _Merlin_ , I give the orders," he retaliated. But Merlin had grown to know Arthur, and he could recognize the give in his voice, disguised by instinctive snark.

They made camp a half hour later (under Arthur's command), when the sun had long set behind the trees and the sky was a purple mass gradually taken over by a dark blue cloak. Stars dotted the sky, and the moon was nearly full, peeking at the servant and King from behind bare-branched trees.

It was getting colder earlier in the year, Merlin noted as he tightened his jacket around him. The sky had been gray with heavy clouds for weeks, and Merlin had a feeling they were ready to unleash their contents. He suddenly wished he had more than his feeble, awfully thin clothes to wrap himself in.

Dismissing the thought, the warlock finished his kindling for the fire, and glanced around to make sure that Arthur was still off hunting before he lit it with nothing more than a twitch of his fingers and the thought of a flame in his head.

He fed the fire as he waited for Arthur, busying himself with the task. It wasn't long before Arthur arrived, one meager rabbit in hand. A scrawny one, at that. He caught Merlin's amused look, and scoffed.

"The forest is barren," he explained.

Merlin hid his smirk. "Or perhaps you're out of practice."

That got a smile out of the king, although he tried to hide it. Instead, he raised his eyebrows, giving Merlin a challenging look. "What was that?"

Merlin raised his hands in defense, walking over to the king and taking the rabbit so he could begin preparing it. "Oh, nothing, nothing," he replied. "Shall I put aside what fat there is, Sire? Wouldn't want another hole in that belt, and all."

Arthur made an incredulous noise. "I am _not_ fat!" he retorted.

"Of course not."

A wooden bowl flew towards Merlin's head, and he dodged it instinctively. He heard the barest hint of Arthur's chuckle, and found himself smiling at the sound.

It had been weeks since he heard Arthur laugh.

They ate in silence, sitting side by side as they dined on the stew Merlin had prepared and the bread they had packed. Merlin tried to ignore the mold that had gathered on his own crust of bread, and dunked it in his stew to mask its appearance and hopefully soften its brick-like composition.

Arthur, Merlin noticed, hardly touched his food. Instead, he stared sullenly at the bowl in his hands, his mind elsewhere.

"Why this one?" Merlin asked, shocking Arthur from his reverie.

Arthur gave Merlin a dismissive look, and sighed. "What are you on about?"

Merlin adjusted his position on the fallen log they were both sat on. He faced Arthur. "This bandit. This village. This woman. What's different about their predicament than any of the other people that request your audience, day after day?"

Arthur was silent. It almost seemed like he'd been surprised by Merlin's perception, but the sorcerer assumed it was a trick of the light, for his face resumed its aforementioned gloom.

"She looked like… bah, nevermind it," Arthur decided, retreating once more behind his emotional barrier. "I've already told you, I need the knights defending Camelot. I will not risk the safety of my kingdom."

"You're doing so right now," Merlin protested, eyes hard.

Arthur looked at him incredulously, then shook his head, gazing at the fire. "Honestly, Merlin, do you ever realize who you're speaking to?"

Merlin smiled at that. "A pompous prat."

He dodged another object.

"Why I keep you around, I've no idea," Arthur murmured, fiddling with the pommel of his sword.

"Because nobody else would be able to keep up with your ridiculous antics while keeping your royal arse alive."

Arthur snorted. " _You_. Keeping _me_ alive?"

Merlin let the conversation drop. _If only you knew_ , he thought.

The fire crackled, filling the silence. "We should rest," Arthur spoke, lying down, now. "We move on at first light."

* * *

The next day brought weather colder than the last. Merlin had taken a moment that morning to glance nervously at the clouds, whose contents seemed heavier and matter was greyer than before. The two men did not waste any time, both wanting to head home and into their warm beds as soon as possible. So, at first light, they packed their things and rode on uphill, where Merlin knew they'd end up at a cliff that overlooked a river they had passed, earlier. He hoped the bandit was hiding there so they could catch him and go home.

In Arthur's determination not to lose any time, they both wound up eating breakfast on horseback. Breakfast consisted of bread that was nearly rock hard, and as dry as Arthur's sense of humor.

Merlin caught hiccups after his first bite, and they remained with him hours into their search.

It agitated Arthur to no end.

" _Hic!_ "

"Merlin…"

"Wh- _hic-_ at?"

"Could you _not do that_?"

"Well I can hardly- _hic_ \- help it- _HIC_ \- _ow_."

Arthur gave him an annoyed glance.

"Then drink some water, you loon, you're going to alarm every bandit to ever exist of our presence!" he lectured in a harsh murmur.

Merlin hiccuped, again, before taking a swig from his waterskin. "If anything tips off our location it would be your enormous head. I'm sure it can be seen from miles off."

" _Mer-"_

But before he could finish his sentence, an arrow whizzed past them, and buried itself in a tree. Their horses backtracked, letting out panicked neighs. The two men calmed the beasts down before surveying their surroundings.

"Damnit," Arthur cursed, leaping off his horse. Merlin did the same as the two friends were suddenly rounded in by a group of bandits. This bunch obviously wasn't the lone bandit Arthur had been tracking, and Merlin cursed their luck.

"Get behind me, Merlin," Arthur ordered as they were closed in.

"Oh my, I feel so safe," Merlin managed to joke, despite the situation.

Before Arthur could reprimand him, the bandits began their ambush, charging with mighty yells and flinging their weapons about, raising swords and maces as they drew closer.

Arthur managed to slay two bandits, and Merlin made a branch fall on an unsuspecting man with just a glance and golding of his eyes. He surveyed the chaos, keeping his eyes on Arthur and using his magic to assist in any small way, whether it was to make a bandit's grasp slip on a hilt, or to raise a tree's root for a convenient trip and fall.

However, just as Merlin was beginning to think things were going very much their way, an arrow found itself lodged into his shoulder. Merlin yelped, caught off guard by the assault, and fell back from the force of the blow before landing onto a very burly object behind him.

It turned out it was a bandit he had fallen into, and the stranger wrapped a muscled arm around Merlin's neck, putting a hand on his mouth to muffle his protests as he picked him up with zero effort and swept him into the forest behind them.

 _No!_ Merlin tried to yell, kicking and flailing his good arm, trying to pry the man's grip off of him and return to his friend. _Arthur!_

But the King vanished from his sight, and Merlin was dragged through the forest and to a clearing.

A clearing that overlooked a cliff.

"You're of magic," a deep voice growled into his ear, filled with disgust. "I saw what you did, how your eyes flashed gold."

The bandit removed his hand from Merlin's mouth, and instead used it to drive the arrow further through his shoulder. Merlin let out a pained cry, struggling in the man's grasp. "A sorcerer killed my wife and daughter," the man spat, turning Merlin to face him now as he used one hand to lean him over the cliff's edge, balled into his tunic, and another to hold a knife to his throat. "Your kind are scum- a _plague_ to this land and the people of it! _"_

Merlin stared hard into the man's eyes, his eyes watered with pain and hands grasping onto the wrist of the hand fisted into his shirt. "You know nothing about me," he gasped, and then tried to think of a spell to send the man flying into a tree.

But he couldn't.

When his eyes widened with shock, the man unleashed a mocking laugh from a foul-smelling mouth. "No use trying your witchcraft, Sorcerer. That is not a normal arrow. I had it enchanted, carved with runes that block magic," he taunted. Merlin gazed into the man's eyes with panic before the bandit reached for the arrow, and snapped the shaft. He then used his knife to shove the arrowhead further in, making Merlin cry out once more with pain, his throat raw and legs buckling as he felt the arrowhead tear through muscle. "Good luck retrieving that without losin' yer arm. You can never use sorcery for your wicked purposes, again."

Merlin was panicked, now, and he grabbed tight onto the arm that was balled into his shirt. He was furious, and he _needed_ to go make sure Arthur was alright. "I don't use it for evil! I've only ever used my magic to help people!"

The knife pressed tighter against his throat, drawing blood. "Tell that to my men you just helped your King slay."

"You'd have murdered us!"

"For you're in _our_ territory! Breathing _our_ air!" the man retaliated, eyes fire. "But not for long."

Before he could deliver his final blow, Merlin heard Arthur yell after him, then saw him emerge from the forest, blade drawn and covered in blood that also splattered the King's clothes and face and hands. "Merlin!" his frantic voice yelled when he saw the condition of his manservant.

"Arth-"

A blade sliced hot across his abdomen, and the fist in his shirt let go.

" _Merlin!_ "

Merlin plummeted down the cliff, but did not have long to register it before he met an excruciatingly icy cold, submerged within a strong current of running water.

The sorcerer struggled to breach the surface of the river for a breath, but he was tossed around like a rag doll, bleeding and powerless against the strength of the water.

When he did manage to pop his head above the river for air, he was simply drowned, once more, flailing his arms as he searched for purchase, his heart beating a rapid staccato in his pained breast.

He remained like this- thrashing and fighting the river until his strength was leeched from him, and when he had lost count of how many times he had reached his head up for a quick breath, he heard Arthur.

"Merlin!"

Merlin tried to find the source of Arthur's voice as water splashed at his face, and found him to his right, at the bank of the river.

"Arthur!" Merlin gasped, choking when he swallowed a mouthful of river water.

Arthur had something in his arms, and he was trying to show Merlin.

Rope.

Understanding, Merlin reached out a hand, and Arthur threw one end of the rope to him. It took three tries before Merlin finally caught it in his hands. He resurfaced when he began to drown, gasping for air.

"Tie it around your waist!" Arthur instructed, voice filled with authority and hard determination.

Merlin nodded quickly, and tried his hardest to tie the rope around him. It was damned harder than it sounded- the current of the water made his hands slip multiple times, and he almost lost his grip on the rope, completely.

But he finally got it on his fifth try, and gave an astounded laugh. "Got it!"

Arthur managed to smile with relief, and he strengthened his grip. "Alright, hold on tight!"

Merlin did as he was told, and then looked up at Arthur.

He nearly gasped.

"Arthur! Behind you!" Merlin shouted with fright.

A badly bloodied bandit ambushed Arthur, and the King had to let go of the rope for a quick second, holding it with just one of his hands, now. Merlin could see that the strength of the river was nearly pulling Arthur in, himself.

The King reached for his sword, and battled the bandit one-handed. Once he managed to down his opponent, his grip loosened in the slightest before tightening again.

It sent Merlin flying back, where he met a boulder with a sharp _smack!_

He blacked out.

* * *

Arthur panicked at the sight of his friend sinking under the current of the water. He used both his sore arms to pull hard at the rope, putting all his strength into bringing Merlin to him.

The river was strong, fighting his will and nearly overcoming him. But Arthur thought of blue eyes and a goofy smile and enormous ears, and he thought of losing the imbecile forever and he couldn't bear it, using that horrid thought to summon up strength deep within him, pulling harder and _harder_ on the rope until he saw a mop of dark hair emerge from the water. He did not waste time to celebrate, though, and instead pulled more and more until Merlin was dragged out of the river, his mouth slack and eyes closed and skin white as death.

"No! No, no, Merlin, not like this! Wake _up_ _!_ " Arthur shouted as he let go of the rope now and put his arms underneath Merlin's, hauling his friend onto the muddy riverbank, lying him on his back. "Snap out of it! Wake up!" he shouted, shaking the boy's shoulders. His lips were pale, skin pallor.

He put a gloved hand on Merlin's cheek, tears gathering in his eyes and his voice catching in his throat. He shook his head, then shook Merlin, some more.

" _Merlin_ \- I order you to wake up _right-_ "

Before he could finish his ridiculous command, Merlin coughed, and Arthur let out a heavy sigh of relief, tilting Merlin to his side as the boy spat out water, hacking it up from his lungs, hands clawing desperately at wet soil.

"It's alright," Arthur reassured, holding his friend close, supporting Merlin's weight as the boy coughed and spat. "You're alright, you're safe, I've got you. I've got you."

* * *

Merlin shuddered as he gasped wetly, coming back to Earth and instantly wishing he hadn't. His entire being ached, and he couldn't locate his magic to bring him comfort, instead relying on the hand that went to his back, _Arthur's hand_ , as it patted gently, another hand going to his side where it gripped in a worried manner. His arms were shaky beneath him, his injured arm hardly holding him up and instead hanging limp.

"When I told you to drink water I did not mean drown yourself in it, you buffoon."

Suddenly, the boy turned to face Arthur, his blue eyes bright and panicked.

"-rthur," he gasped. His voice was frantic. "Are you alright?" he managed to ask as he observed his friend, looking for any injuries.

Arthur looked taken aback by the question. " _Yes_ , I'm bloody alright! You're the one who nearly died!" Arthur looked around them, cursing to himself. "You're bleeding, and our medical supplies are in your pack. We need to get back to the horses, if they're still where we left them… it isn't far- can you walk?"

Merlin nodded weakly, and Arthur gently grasped him, helping him on his feet.

He put Merlin's wet arm around his shoulder, hauling them both uphill and towards where they had been ambushed. Merlin shivered the whole way, the cold of the river and frigidness of the air sucking any heat that warranted its presence in his body. He could see Arthur glance at him with worry every now and then, and Merlin would have stopped his shivering to alleviate the King's worries, if he could.

They reached the site of the ambush in only a few minutes, and Merlin's heart ached at what he found.

His horse was lying on the ground and letting out pained noises. A pool of blood surrounded her- five arrows launched in her brown-haired chest, and another in her leg. Arthur's horse was nowhere to be found.

Merlin raced the fastest he could towards his horse, collapsing before it on his knees, and putting a bloodied and wet hand on her muzzle. The horse gasped a pained breath, letting out a terrified whinny before Merlin soothed her with words from the Ancient Language.

"I'm so sorry, my friend," he whispered, tears gathering in his eyes.

Arthur approached him, silent in his stride. "Let's put her out of her misery," he spoke, his voice solemn.

Merlin wiped his tears and nodded once, not trusting himself to speak as he turned his head away. He only barely caught the sight of Arthur's raised sword, and closed his eyes as it made its descent.

He kept his hand over his horse's heart, wishing he had his magic so he could have eased her pain.

His entire being shook.

A hand grasped his arm. "Come," Arthur beckoned. "We need to bind your wounds before they worsen. I can't have you fainting on me, again." There was no teasing tone in Arthur's voice, just unbridled worry for his friend.

Merlin nodded, letting Arthur lead him to an ivy-covered rock. Merlin sat upon it, and Arthur brought Merlin's medical pack over.

He lifted Merlin's shirt, not giving the warlock a chance to do so, himself, and let Merlin hold it still as he brought out a jar that Merlin instructed him to, covering the wound in the herbal paste inside the container, and proceeding to bind him expertly.

He then inspected Merlin's shoulder.

"It's still in there," Merlin gasped as Arthur gently prodded the sore area. It was inflamed and irritated from Merlin's struggle in the water, and he felt as though he'd rather have no arm at all than continue to endure this pain.

Arthur's fingers tugged the collar of Merlin's tunic aside, tearing it slightly so he could inspect it easily. "The bastard dug it in further. I cannot remove it, I will only infect it. We must take you to Gauis. For now, I will apply the herbs and bind it. Don't move."

Merlin nodded, his breathing advancing as Arthur smeared the medicine on his wound. He whimpered in pain, flattening his lips into a line as he resisted the urge to scream. Afterwards Arthur carefully wrapped Merlin's shoulder, his fingers brushing gently against the boy's skin as he worked to bind the wound. At the end of it all, Merlin had worked up a sweat from his efforts to keep back his cries, although he was still shivering so vigorously that his teeth chattered together loudly.

"Remove your coat and shirt," Arthur instructed, noticing his friend's worrisome state. When Merlin gave him a look, Arthur snapped impatiently, "Now! Unless you'd rather freeze to death!"

Before Merlin could comply, however, it began snowing.

With the seconds it took them to gather themselves in their new situation, the snow picked up and fell heavily.

Arthur cursed. "Damn it all," he spoke as he hauled Merlin up. "We need to find shelter and build a fire. You can't travel in your condition."

Merlin felt weak on his feet, and he had to agree with the King, for once. "We passed a cave on our way here. Downhill, and past the gathering of rock, a mile south of the base of the hill. It was hidden by trees."

Arthur nodded, seeming impressed with Merlin's observation skills. He didn't comment on it, though, instead opting for, "Let's go, then."

* * *

It took ages to get back to the base of the tall hill, and it was sunset by the time they managed to find shelter. Merlin's condition had only worsened, and he could have sworn he was starting to lose feeling in his feet and hands. He had stopped shivering ages ago, and that worried Arthur to no end, making him pick up the pace of their stride.

When they found the cave, Arthur had laughed with relief, letting out a praise of joy before bringing them to the mouth of the cavern.

"Wait here," he told Merlin, carefully sitting him by the entrance. "I need to make sure it's safe."

Merlin nodded, panting as he put a numb hand on his abdomen, grasping the wound there. He waited for Arthur, and it felt like hours before the King returned, picking up his manservant and practically carrying him into the cave.

When they were quite far into the cave, Arthur leaned Merlin against the rocky wall, and the warlock rested boneless there, his eyes falling shut.

"Merlin, wake up!" Arthur panicked, patting Merlin's cheek until the boy groaned, opening his eyes to glare at Arthur. The King kept his gloved hand on Merlin's cheek, meeting his eyes. "Don't sleep, we have to warm you, first."

Merlin grumbled something incoherent, letting Arthur shed him of his coat and tunic. He was so tired he did not care for his own state of nudity, letting the King put the articles of clothing to the side. He removed his trousers next, but kept his shorts on for modesty. Merlin tried to ignore the way Arthur's fingers had fumbled with his belt, brushing dangerously against a region a King's fingers shouldn't brush.

Arthur took a moment to observe Merlin in his nakedness, his eyes lingering on the wound on his stomach, which was bleeding through the bandages, now. He looked at it almost guiltily, and Merlin didn't say a word.

Shaking his head, Arthur removed his red over-tunic, putting the fairly thick material on Merlin, then removing his cloak and wrapping the servant in it.

"You should take off your shoes and socks, too," Arthur instructed.

Merlin shied his gaze to the floor. "I can't really… use my fingers, as of this moment."

Arthur looked worried at that, and he chose to put the issue on the side for now as he removed Merlin's shoes and socks for him, wrapping his feet in a blanket he found in Merlin's pack. Then he removed his gloves, and took Merlin's hands with his own warm ones.

Merlin found himself entranced with the fashion in which Arthur's hands slotted easily into his own, the way their fingers laced as Arthur rubbed warmth into Merlin's digits. He rubbed hard and fast, working to get blood back into his friend's fingers. Merlin's hands tingled as the numbness trickled away, leaving a burning sensation.

Arthur's hands looked nice, Merlin noticed.

Once Arthur had been at this task for a good few minutes, he took his gloves from the cave floor and put them on Merlin. He then stood up, giving his friend a once-over. "I'm going to go gather some wood for a fire. Stay here, and stay quiet. I'll be back, shortly."

Merlin nodded, watching as the King left. When he was alone, he rubbed warmth into his feet through the blanket that adorned him. He was shivering, once again, and it racked through his body until he had no control, anymore- shaking and spasming through his sore muscles.

He was so tired. He could hardly keep his eyes open, now, and did not even know if he wanted to, anymore.

His magic was gone. He couldn't touch it- couldn't find even a hint of it within his core. His soul was empty and hollow and he was _alone_.

It terrified him ever so much.

Magic was not just a part of Merlin- it _was_ Merlin. Without his magic, he was nothing. He wasn't whole. He was an empty shell.

Merlin's hand grasped at his shoulder, and he resisted the urge to dig his fingers through skin until they happened upon his own personal poison- the rune-engraved arrow lodged deep in his flesh.

It felt like an intruder, one that he had to rid himself of _that_ _moment_ , lest he go insane.

Merlin gasped wetly, shaking and shivering- with panic or cold, he had no idea, anymore.

Soon Arthur returned, and he looked panicked with his friend's condition. He placed the wood on the floor, kneeling in front of Merlin.

"Are you alright?" he asked, blue eyes worried.

Merlin nodded, arms hugging himself. "Just c-c-cold," he murmured, feeling weaker and weaker the more the seconds passed by.

Arthur nodded at that, and set to making a fire, working diligently until he had flames roaring proudly in their last-minute shelter. When he had finished, he gently lifted Merlin, putting the warlock's arm around broad, strong shoulders, and brought him closer to the fire. Arthur sat down by Merlin, and let the magician lean heavily on him. Merlin tried not to blush as he felt Arthur's arm wind around his waist, fingers settling on his belly. He tuned into the pleasant sensation before Arthur shifted, squeezing Merlin assuringly before he got up to fetch the servant's tossed-aside clothes.

He wringed them of their water, and laid them by the fire to dry, frowning distastefully at them as he did so.

"These are so flimsy!" he exclaimed, taken aback by the quality of Merlin's clothes. "How did you expect this to keep you warm?"

Merlin found enough energy within him for sarcasm.

"I do hope you'll forgive me, Sire, but not all of us can afford extravagantly thick robes and fur-lined coats," he retorted.

Arthur looked taken aback. Then he recomposed himself. "Well, this just won't do. You're a servant to the King. When we return to Camelot I will see to it that you're dressed as such."

Merlin took it as Arthur's way of showing he cared for him. The warlock didn't know what to think about his observation.

Arthur returned to his place by Merlin's side, taking his face in his hand as he observed him. The feel of Arthur's hand on Merlin's cheek was pleasant- the King was calloused from his sword fighting, yet his touch was gentle and careful, fingers long and tickling Merlin's neck, and the warlock suddenly wished he'd keep his hand there forever.

He didn't know what to think about that, either.

The King spoke.

"Your skin is still blue… and your lips are purple," he murmured, almost to himself. "This isn't working."

Then Arthur seemed to have an idea, for he removed his hand and used it to unfasten his sword from his belt, setting it aside. He then ordered Merlin to lie down. The sorcerer obliged, taken by surprise from the resolve in Arthur's voice.

After he'd laid down by the fire, he felt Arthur's form lie down behind him, and the King pulled his servant close to him, wrapping his arm tight around him.

"What are you-"

"If you ever speak of this to anyone, I'll put you in the stocks for a week- no, a month," Arthur threatened, but he didn't remove his grasp. In fact, he only tightened it. "Body warmth is the most efficient form of retaining heat."

Merlin blushed, unable to help but notice the hard muscle of Arthur's chest against his back, and how his groin was very, _very close to_ -

"Er, alright," Merlin squeaked, hoping that Arthur didn't notice the embarrassing voice alteration.

If he did, he didn't comment on it. Instead, he seemed to move closer, if possible.

"You can sleep," Arthur murmured, his voice low and warm and _so very close to Merlin's ear_.

 _I don't know if I can, now_ , Merlin thought, but didn't dare say aloud.

Instead, he hummed in concordance, not trusting his voice to speak without humiliating himself. So he closed his eyes, and focused on Arthur's heartbeat against his back- _so in tune_ to his own.

 _Two sides of the same coin_ , the voice of Kilgharrah seemed to remind him in his head.

Blast that dragon. Blast him, and his bloody coin.


	2. Chapter 2

~~~Part Two~~~

When Merlin awoke, he found himself cuddled into the sturdy, warm chest of Arthur.

Arthur, _King of Camelot_.

Merlin lifted his face from Arthur's tunic, and tried to put space between the two before he realized strong arms were wound tight around him, and only tightened more when he moved. He looked up at Arthur to find him asleep, a blissful look on his face- lips full and slack with sleep, eyes gently shut, golden hair resting like soft downy feathers on his brow, cheeks and nose rosy from the cold.

He was beautiful.

And Merlin could stare at him all day.

But his burning wounds protested the idea.

"Arthur," he murmured, shaking the King from his hand's place on Arthur's hip.

Arthur's _hip_.

With a sleepy groan, Arthur stirred, arms removing themselves from Merlin, and a hand retreating to run through his hair. Merlin watched in a trance, never having seen Arthur wake up in such intimate detail. It was incredibly fascinating… and alluring.

Blue eyes met his own, and Arthur seemed to notice their situation. He played it off, though, sitting himself up and clearing his throat. "How are you feeling?" he asked, and Merlin caught the way Arthur's eyes inspected him, lingering on the sight of Merlin in the red cloak and tunic.

"Alright, I think," Merlin replied, getting up slowly before Arthur took his hand and helped him sit the rest of the way up. Their hands linked more perfectly (if possible) than the night before.

Arthur looked outside the cave, studying the light. "It's late into the morning. We should head back for Camelot."

Merlin felt guilt worm its way into his gut. "What about the bandit?"

Arthur stood on his feet now, and picked up Merlin's clothes, inspecting them. "That will have to wait another day. We need to get you to Gauis before the blizzard worsens. Are you fit to walk?"

Merlin nodded, standing on wobbly legs, swaying just slightly. Arthur watched him warily, looking ready to jump to Merlin's aid at a minute's notice. When he didn't faint, Arthur handed him his clothes.

"They're mostly dry. Get changed so we can leave this blasted cavern."

The sorcerer nodded again, taking his damp, stiff and scratchy clothes, and shedding off Arthur's warm ones. He put on his clothes when Arthur turned away, and he shivered hard, feeling a strong need to shed them off, once more. When he handed Arthur his clothes, the King spoke up.

"Keep the cloak," he ordered, not giving Merlin a choice as he took his other clothes back, leaving the fur-lined cloak in Merlin's hands.

Deciding against arguing, since he was freezing and wouldn't mind a warm cloak, Merlin fastened it on, shuddering from the warmth it brought. He could see Arthur watching him from the corner of his eye before the King picked up their things, walking out the cave.

Merlin followed.

* * *

An hour into their hike through the woods, Merlin felt dizzy.

And sweaty. And nauseous.

And did he mention dizzy?

Merlin trailed behind Arthur, not wanting the King to see his awful state, and resolved to walk until he physically could not move another inch.

He was afraid he was getting dangerously close to that point.

Suddenly, Arthur paused, putting a gloved hand into the air, signalling Merlin to stop, too. The sorcerer gratefully leaned against a tree. Arthur had been cautious the whole walk, stopping every few minutes when he'd think he heard a suspicious noise. Merlin thought he'd heard noises, too. It followed the pair, pausing when they did. Eventually, he put the blame on his fevered mind.

When Arthur began walking again, Merlin pushed himself off the tree and continued walking, too. He was dragging his legs like bars of lead, and hoped he wasn't making too much noise in the underbrush. Instead of thinking about how tired he was, he focused on lifting his feet and moving forward.

That was until his vision went black and his legs collapsed.

The next thing he knew, Merlin was lying down on the forest floor, propped up by Arthur's arms. He could hear the King's voice calling to him as he blinked his eyes open.

"Merlin! Are you alright?"

The warlock nodded, unable to focus on anything but Arthur's closeness. When he did not reply right away, Arthur seemed worried.

"Let me check your wounds," he ordered before helping Merlin sit up. The warlock shook his head.

"I'm fine, we need to keep moving."

Arthur kept his hold on Merlin's arm. "You've fainted. We can spare one minute."

Resisting the urge to argue, Merlin gave in, letting Arthur lift up Merlin's shirt and pull the bandages away from his abdomen. His fingers rested itself on Merlin's side, and warm blue eyes glanced at his own before shyly ducking away. "This one seems alright… the bleeding is letting up," he reported before fixing the bandages back in place and putting Merlin's shirt back down. "Try not to strain it, you'll break the scabbing," he commanded, voice serious and eyes fixing themselves back onto Merlin's.

"I'll try, _Sire_."

Arthur gave his manservant a look before pulling aside the collar of his tunic. Having Arthur's face that close to his neck- where he could feel his warm breath brush against his quickening pulse- sent Merlin's heart into a frenzy. He decided to focus on the bark of a tree not too far away, rather than on the way Arthur's gloved fingers glided gently across the skin of Merlin's collarbone, then carefully around the wound, tugging his tunic away softly. Arthur then peeled back the bandage slightly, inspecting the wound there.

He cursed under his breath.

Merlin didn't dare look. "That bad, is it?"

Arthur put the bandage back in its place. "You'll live," he murmured, not meeting Merlin's eyes.

The warlock didn't know if he believed him.

"In that case," he replied, "we should really be heading back."

"Not just yet. This is a good place to stop, the trees provide cover from the snow. I'm going to make a fire, and see if there's something for you to eat in this accursed forest."

When the King got up, Merlin spoke.

"Don't you need any help?"

Arthur gave Merlin a reassuring look at that. "No, you've got a fever. You need to rest. I'll be quick. Stay hidden in the underbrush, and stay quiet."

"Are you s-"

"I won't be long," Arthur interrupted as he stalked off into the trees.

So Merlin sat, watching Arthur's golden head disappear into the thick evergreen forest.

He felt an uneasy stirring in the pit of his stomach.

Trying to dismiss the feeling, Merlin lifted a hand in front of him, trying to summon up the simplest magic spells he knew- ones that he could do with his mind before he even could even speak the words of the ancient language on his tongue.

Unable to touch the core of his magic, and having worked up a sweat from the efforts of his concentration, Merlin gave up with an exasperated groan, dropping his head in his hands.

He was of no use to Arthur like this.

 _What if I never get my magic back?_ Merlin wondered.

Surely, he'd have to leave Camelot after finding someone else to take his place. Someone he could trust to take care of Arthur. The King still had a long journey ahead of him- there was so much the two had to accomplish. How could he help if he lost his magic?

A scrape of metal interrupted Merlin's self-loathing, seeming to mock him with its indication of imminent danger.

Merlin perked his head up, turning towards the source of the noise. It came from the forest.

The direction Arthur had headed.

Then the clang of swords sounded, echoing through the trees. Merlin could hear Arthur's struggle.

He was up in an instant, much to the opposition of his dizzy brain, and ran to the source of the commotion, stumbling through the forest until he found his friend. Arthur was battling a menacing man, the clamor of metal combining itself with animalistic shouts. His sword caught with the stranger's, and they pinned their weight on one another through their blades, challenging their strength. Merlin could see Arthur's grip slipping.

Then he saw the bandit's eyes flash gold, and he gasped as Arthur's grasp loosened.

"Arthur!" Merlin exclaimed before he could help himself.

Arthur turned to look at Merlin, panic in his eyes. "Mer-" he began before the bandit took the distraction as an opportunity to bash the hilt of his sword into the side of the King's head, knocking him out. Arthur collapsed onto the forest ground.

Merlin instinctively lifted a hand with the intention of sending the bandit flying into a tree before he realized he couldn't. The man paused at Merlin's gesture, before smiling maniacally, from what Merlin could see beneath his hood.

Then he raised his own hand, using Merlin's spell against him, sending him soaring until his back met a tree with a painful blow.

The world turned to black.

* * *

Merlin groggily woke, and instantly met with an excruciating pain that blossomed in the back of his head.

He was in a room. A cabin of some sort. A fire was lit in a hearth, casting an orange glow on the wooden interior. The room was messily littered with books and scrolls. There was a small bed, a table lined with tonics of some sort. Dried meat hung from hooks near the table.

He caught sight of a staff in one corner of the room. The red jewel on the head of it gleamed in a mysterious way. It was of magic.

Where was he?

The sorcerer scanned the room further, trying to make sense of where he was before he saw-

 _Arthur_.

The King had been shouting at Merlin through his gag, his words muffled yet eyes panicked. Merlin hadn't heard him, his head groggy until he fully came to, but at the sight of the King bloodied and tied to a chair, Merlin tried instantly to get up-

Before he realized his hands were tied behind him, feet bound, as well.

"Arthur," Merlin mumbled, speech slurred. He surveyed his king from his position on the ground, searching for any dangerous injuries.

He almost sighed with relief when he did not happen upon any.

"Emrys," a voice said, startling Merlin.

He squirmed, trying to turn his head towards the source of the noise, but unable. The bandit, however, stepped into view. He was tall as Merlin- his hair dark and a messy mane. Robes of the druids dressed him- muddy in color and heavy in material. His eyes were a sharp green, and they looked down at Merlin. The bandit clicked his tongue.

"How pitiful."

"What do you want from us?" Merlin spat, glaring at the sorcerer.

"From your friend? Nothing, really. Rather, it's _you_ who has caught my attention, Emrys."

Merlin glanced at Arthur, finding his incredulous expression and trying to both reassure and beg to him (for what, he did not know) through his gaze.

He was going to find out.

"I do not know what you mean," Merlin replied.

The man laughed, and it echoed through the room. "Oh, heavens, don't play dull with _me_! Your name stretches far across the land. The druids have told tales of your _capabilities_... the most powerful sorcerer in all of Albion... I hardly believed them, but here you are."

Merlin stared down the man. "Please," he spoke, his voice weak, now. "If it is me you want, you have no need of Arthur. Let him go."

"The King of Camelot? Now, why would I do such a thing?" he replied as he drew a sword from his belt, pacing towards Arthur. "The man whose father _slaughtered_ my family."

He pointed the sword at Arthur's neck.

"No! _Please-_ please, don't," Merlin begged, trying his hardest to prop himself up, and somehow managing, much to the protest of his aching shoulder. "Arthur is not his father!"

"Why do you defend him?" the bandit yelled, turning to face Merlin. "He would easily take your life if he knew what you were capable of! You'd _die_ for him?"

Merlin caught the sorcerer's gaze, trying to reason with him. "He is a good man. You cannot place him under crimes he did not commit."

Arthur's eyes were wide, but he paid no attention to the sword at his neck. He was gazing at Merlin. The man nicked Arthur's throat with the sword before turning back to face Merlin. He stalked towards him, eyes dead of emotion.

Suddenly, he kicked Merlin to the floor, and when the warlock tried to sit up once more, the bandit stomped a foot on his injured shoulder, then twisted it in its spot, sending a flaring heat of pain throughout Merlin's body. He let out a wail of pain as he felt the arrowhead in his shoulder tear through muscles and ligaments. He could only hardly hear Arthur's muffled yelling amongst his own. When the foot removed itself, Merlin barely had a moment to catch his breath before the bandit balled his fist in Merlin's tunic, and yanked him into a sitting position. He bent at Merlin's level. His green eyes were filled with menace.

"Do you know what it is like? To watch your family butchered before your very eyes? For nothing more than being capable of magic?"

Merlin held their gaze. He did not speak, save for the shuddering pants that left his lungs.

"My parents were _healers_. They aided the members of Uther's court. They assisted the physician. Uther once _praised_ them. Then he turned against them and had them executed- butchered right before my eyes. My sister and I just managed to escape before his guards shot an arrow through her heart."

It was silent. Merlin noticed the twitch in the sorcerer's hand- his hardly contained rage. "I'm sorry," he whispered.

The sorcerer relented for a moment- a flash of humanity in his cold eyes. Then he released his hold on Merlin, letting him slump to the ground. He turned to look at Merlin, once more. "The energy of your magic is blocked," he spoke, eyes drifting towards Merlin's shoulder. "I can help you. We can travel to the druids. They will heal you. And, in return, you can aid them. United, we can bring magic back to Albion. We can rule over those who've dared to oppress us."

Merlin shook his head. "You wish to rule through fear. It is people like you who give magic a foul name. That is not how I want to go about bringing magic back to Albion. We must do right by the people, or we are no better than Uther."

"You must do right by _your_ people, Emrys," the sorcerer hissed, now. He cut the rope to Merlin's ankles with one swift motion of his sword. Then he pulled him on his feet. Merlin's knees buckled before he regained his footing, miraculously. A hand gripped tight onto the binds of Merlin's wrists, and piercing green eyes gazed hard into Merlin's own. "You must kill Arthur Pendragon."

Merlin's eyes widened, and he shook his head. "You're mad."

"Kill him, or I will. He can either die by the hand of a friend, or a stranger," the sorcerer affirmed, cutting the binds off of Merlin's wrists and handing him the sword. It was Arthur's sword, Merlin now noticed. The one Merlin had foraged for Arthur. "Try to attack me, and I kill him with the flick of a finger."

As if to prove his capability, the sorcerer murmured a string of words under his breath, and held his hand out at Arthur, fist formed in a strangling position. Suddenly, Arthur looked blue, struggling gasps leaving his gagged mouth.

"Stop! Please!" Merlin begged.

The stranger smiled wickedly, then released his spell. "Once Camelot finds you've murdered their King, they'll want your blood. They'll never let you stay with your life."

"You don't have to do this," Merlin tried to reason. The sword was shaking in his grasp. "You must listen. Arthur is-"

"I'm done listening! Kill him _now!_ Or I will!"

Merlin stilled his shaking, realizing what he had to do. He turned to face Arthur, and met his eyes. The King met Merlin's gaze, and he looked panicked, confused-

Betrayed.

"Merlin," Arthur mumbled through his gag.

Merlin approached him, sword in his hand. He could feel the sorcerer's eyes on his neck. "I'm sorry," he whispered to Arthur.

Then he turned his back to Arthur, stepping in front of him to block him from the sorcerer's gaze. With a quickness he did not know he possessed, Merlin raised the sword to his shoulder, and cut through his wound, slicing deeply into it, and digging in his trembling fingers until he felt the broken shaft of the arrow.

He did not even register his own screams of agony, the rush of blood in his ears and hot, firelike pain coursing through him drowning his own hoarse screams. He pulled the arrow out, hand covered in hot, sticky blood and pus, and suddenly a pulse of strong, golden light emanated through the room, from Merlin's body. It shook the wooden shack, and nearly threw the stranger off his feet. He regained his balance, however, but not before Merlin lifted his hand, and sent the sorcerer to sleep, making him fall like a heap of logs.

Merlin's knees nearly buckled, but he stuck Arthur's sword to the ground as a makeshift staff, and leaned heavily onto it, trying to regain his breath. His injured arm was practically useless, but even as it pulsed pain throughout him, he could feel his magic start to mend his muscles- stitching them back together in a gradual, agonizing manner that both burned and irritably tingled.

When his breathing evened, Merlin pushed himself onto his legs, and limped to Arthur. The King stared at his friend with the most incredulous expression Merlin had ever seen on him.

"I'm sorry," Merlin gasped again before he reached around Arthur, and undid his gag. It took a few attempts, since Merlin could use only one hand. Arthur, surprisingly, did not speak when it was removed. Merlin then removed Arthur's binds with a simple flick of his fingers. Arthur watched Merlin's face, no doubt observing the gold that flashed in his eyes.

With his binds removed, Arthur got up, and Merlin flinched before he realized Arthur was wrapping him in a hug. Merlin relaxed into it, letting out a gasping sob choked off by his dry throat.

"I'm so-"

"Shut up, you loon," Arthur commanded, and it felt so good to hear his voice- concerned rather than angry or disgusted. He let go of Merlin, although his hand kept a firm grip on his uninjured arm, and turned to look at the sorcerer. "Is he…?"

"No," Merlin said. "I do not kill. I made him sleep."

Arthur turned to inspect Merlin's wound, his eyes filled with worry. "He hurt you. I will not be as merciful."

"Arthur…"

"Sit down," Arthur instructed, leading Merlin to the bed. The warlock obliged, letting Arthur sit him down. The King went and rummaged through the sorcerer's things, happening upon some clean bandages near the tonics. He inspected the glass vials, and picked one up, reading the label.

When he returned to Merlin's side, he sat by him. "This is for the pain, and your fever," Arthur murmured, handing the vial to Merlin. The warlock, having accustomed himself to what herbs were used for what, took a whiff of the vial to assure himself of its contents before downing it.

He shuddered, and the tonic only made him realize how empty his stomach was.

Merlin removed his tunic under Arthur's orders, and the blond grabbed a pail of water and cleaned the wound of Merlin's shoulder. The sorcerer tried not to show his pain.

"You may never use your arm, again," Arthur whispered gravely, his eyebrows strewn together and his eyes focusing hard on the task at hand. He put aside the bloodied rag he used to clean the wound, and began binding Merlin's shoulder expertly.

"Suppose you'll have to find a new manservant," Merlin retorted.

At Arthur's pause, the warlock spoke again.

"I was only joking. My arm will be fine. I heal fast. Because of my…"

"Magic," Arthur spoke, and he seemed winded. He met Merlin's eyes, finally, and the two gazed at one another.

Suddenly, Arthur looked hurt.

"Did you ever plan on telling me?"

Merlin's throat suddenly felt very tight. "I thought about it nearly every night."

"Then why did you not?"

Merlin shook his head, distressed with the situation he had landed himself in. This was not how he wanted Arthur to find out.

"It was not yet time," he lamely replied, shrugging his tunic back on. "I had to get you to see the good of magic before I placed such a revelation upon you."

Arthur was silent at that. " _You're_ the good of magic. I would have seen that."

Merlin smiled sadly at that. "Perhaps," he whispered. "But telling you would be out of my own selfish desires. I had to consider your fate… it is you who was meant to bring magic back to Albion. You are the one who could undo your father's wrath and unite sorcerers and humans once more."

Arthur looked astounded. "How could you know such a thing?"

"Because it is prophesized. And I believe it to be true. I have _seen_ you, Arthur. The humanity that lies within you. You are not your father- you are greater and stronger than he ever has been. And there are a great many people who hold hope for the peace you will one day bring."

Arthur searched Merlin's gaze, eyes flicking back and forth, as if looking for answers to questions he could hardly utter.

"It was you," he whispered. "All those times… when things would somehow repair themselves… when you'd disappear for days. You were protecting me. And Camelot."

Merlin did not speak. He just gazed back at Arthur, watching as the King slowly came to his realization.

"All those years… I thought myself the hero. But it was you."

"It was us. Arthur, it was _us_. My purpose is to serve you. And I would not change that for anything in the world."

Arthur looked down, trying to process everything, and his fingers found Merlin's wrist, and they held on, as if the King would surely disappear from the world unless he anchored himself to something- to his other half, the other side of his coin. The warlock placed his fingers over Arthur's in what he hoped was a comforting gesture, feeling a sort of relief in his heart when Arthur did not flinch away.

At the movement, Arthur looked back up. Merlin eagerly caught his gaze, taking his turn to search his eyes, now.

His heart nearly skipped a beat in his chest when Arthur's gaze shifted downwards, in the unmistakable direction of Merlin's lips.

The warlock held his breath, his own eyes glancing low, at lips that parted expectantly….

Suddenly, Arthur seemed to break from the trance. His hand removed itself from Merlin, and he took a deep breath, looking over at the unconscious sorcerer. "We need to do something about him," he spoke, and his voice wavered with the slightest hint of a deteriorating composition.

Merlin nodded warily, his head in the clouds. "The spell I put on him will keep him asleep long enough. For now, however, we should bind and gag him."

"I agree," Arthur stated, and he got up to get to work. When Merlin tried to get up, as well, Arthur put a hand on his unharmed shoulder. "You rest, for now," he ordered.

So Merlin watched, staring at Arthur as he expertly bound the sorcerer, gagging him as well, in order to avoid the murmuring of spells without their knowledge. After doing so, Arthur tossed the sorcerer into a cupboard in a rather unkind fashion, using the sorcerer's sword to bolt the doors shut through the handles.

When walking back to Merlin's side, something caught Arthur's attention. He knelt to the floor and picked up an object.

The arrowhead.

Merlin's skin prickled at the sight of it, and he recoiled as Arthur inspected it. The King brought it to him.

"Is this…?"

Merlin nodded, his face drained of color.

"What are these inscriptions?" Arthur asked, noting the way Merlin paled and went silent.

"They are runes… meant to block magic."

In telling Arthur this, Merlin knew he was performing the ultimate act of trust. It was a great power for the king of Camelot to know, and it could prove a downfall for Merlin, or a whole new step in his bond with Arthur.

Upon inspecting Arthur's face, he noticed disgust. "That's terrible," he spoke, and Merlin let out a sigh.

"Yes," he spoke, and his voice was shaky. "I'm not quite sure how those bandits found such a thing."

"Nevermind that," Arthur murmured, and he ripped a strip of cloth from his tunic, and wrapped the arrowhead. He then handed the stone to Merlin. "You keep it."

Merlin fitted the cloth-bound stone in his palm. "Me?" he questioned, both heart-warmed and shocked at Arthur's trust in him.

"Yes," and Arthur sat by Merlin, now, their legs pressed comfortingly against one another on the bed. "From now on, Merlin, I want you on my court- as a proper member, that is."

Merlin searched Arthur's eyes, gazing into the blue of them and trying to find confirmation in what he was saying. "What for?"

"As court sorcerer- the official consultant of all things magic related. It is not a real position, mind you, but it will be, and it is one that you have well earned," Arthur explained, and his voice was warm and smooth, like dripping honey, filled with unabashed adoration. Merlin suddenly realized their close proximity- the way in which Arthur was leaned into him. "I do not want you to hide who you are anymore, Merlin. My father's ways were old and barbaric, and it is not the way that I want my kingdom run… _our_ kingdom."

"Arthur…" Merlin breathed, and he felt as though he were lost in those deep blue eyes, now. "I-"

"You're welcome," Arthur interrupted, and he was smiling now- wide and toothy, and Merlin found himself smiling back, and he had not realized he'd been crying until he instinctively reached a hand up to wipe his dampened cheeks, embarrassed by his own reaction, ducking his face to hide it from Arthur's intense gaze.

But he could not help it, really, because this was practically a dream come true for Merlin. How many times had he worried himself, night after night, day after day, constantly playing upon the possible scenarios of Arthur finding out about his magic? He'd been truly convinced that Arthur would hate him- would banish him without a second thought. It was an incredibly huge secret to keep, and Merlin had been keeping it for so long from his closest friend.

Yet, Arthur accepted it. He accepted _Merlin_. All his worrying had been for nothing, and Merlin just felt an incredible sense of relief- one that lifted his shoulders of their burden, and made him feel renewed with life.

When his hand had wiped his eyes of their tears, Arthur's own hand met Merlin's at his cheek, and he splayed his warm palm over Merlin's cold fingers, holding it there, and their eyes met, an incredible energy building in their gaze.

No words were exchanged, but their bodies spoke- for Arthur leaned close, his free hand finding Merlin's lower back, pulling him nearer, as if their already close proximity were not enough to satiate Arthur's need- _Merlin's_ need, both their needs. And Merlin was frozen still, eyes searching Arthur's own- the only part of his body he felt as though he could move.

Merlin's name was spoken through the lips his eyes had fallen upon- pink and full and _so very close_ , and his name was heavy on those lips, weighed down with a thousand other words that went unspoken.

Then Arthur's mouth met his own in a hot and urgent need, and Merlin was snapped out of his reverie, for his hand found Arthur's shoulder, and it gripped there tight, fingers soon cradling the warmth of Arthur's neck, brushing against his pulse and sending a shiver through the King, one that made Merlin draw closer, until chests collided and heady breaths no longer had a distinguishable source.

"-rthur," Merlin moaned, his wet lips parting as Arthur's found their way to Merlin's neck, nestling there and planting fleeting kisses, lips resting on a vein there. They took a moment's pause before Arthur found his way back to Merlin's mouth, planting gentle kisses there, pecks that cradled Merlin's lips, slotting perfectly into one another, and then moving to rest on Merlin's chin.

"Gods, Merlin," Arthur breathed out, his fingers finding their way to Merlin's sides, where he tugged suggestively at the bloodied, tattered remnants of Merlin's tunic.

Merlin let out a breathy chuckle, winding his arms around Arthur and moving to rest his head in the nape of the King's neck. He hid his face there while Arthur ran a hand through Merlin's dirty hair. "I've never felt… never been with someone who I..." Arthur tried to speak, his voice wavering and desperate to explain.

Merlin's heart suddenly sank. "You're King of Camelot... " he spoke, and that voiced everything that went unsaid.

It was silent for a long while. "...Yes," Arthur finally replied.

Merlin pulled away from Arthur, but only slightly, for the King kept his grip on him, strengthening it with what looked like fear of Merlin's possible leaving. Merlin met his friend's eyes, then lowered his gaze to his lips. Then, in search of a more modest spot, Merlin decided to look off to the side, for every part of Arthur made him want to do very inappropriate, _very_ "not-alright" things.

"You must keep up appearances," Merlin murmured.

Arthur seemed to contemplate this for a long time before he spoke. "Well, as you may very well know- with me being the King of Camelot and all, I tend to get what I want," Arthur said in such a snooty fashion that Merlin snorted. At the sight of Merlin's smile, Arthur grinned dumbly. Then he grew serious, and captured Merlin's gaze, looking at him for a long while. "And I want _you_ , Merlin. Gods help me, I do. I'm not quite sure when or how it happened, but I cannot deny it any longer. No ill intent or thoughts towards us will dispel me of this."

Merlin was smiling so wide it hurt, and tears came to his eyes once more. He'd blame his sentimentality on his fever. His hand found Arthur's cheek, and he gave an almost hysterical laugh, overcome with the emotions of the past few hours, the reality of his situation just now settling on him.

"I want you too, you irritable clotpole," he spoke.

And before Arthur could come up with an insult in return, Merlin kissed him.

* * *

 **So sorry I took literally AGES updating! I had some family problems, but I'm back.**

 **Part 3 will be out soon,**

 **Goodbye, lovelies!~**


	3. Chapter 3

~~~Part 3~~~

Merlin had eventually fallen asleep, but not until Arthur had forced him to fill his stomach with the bandit's dried meat, and as much water as was humanly possible to drink. When he did succumb to slumber, it was with Arthur sat by his side on the small bed, leg pressed against him as a sort of barrier, and a hand rested comfortably on Merlin's hip. The warlock had fallen asleep the moment Arthur insisted he should do so, and could not even surmount the energy to volunteer taking first watch.

When he woke up, it was to Arthur's hand over his mouth. Merlin met his urgent gaze, and the King put a finger over his lips. The warlock nodded slowly, and sat up with Arthur's assistance, his shoulder healing, but pulsating with pain. His abdomen was in no better shape- he'd ripped open the scabbing in the antics of the night prior, and Arthur had bandaged it before Merlin slept, but he could still feel it bleeding.

Arthur's face was so close to Merlin's that his eyes inevitably dropped to his mouth before flicking back up to eyes that begged his attention. "There's somebody outside. Stay here, and stay quiet," Arthur spoke.

"Let me go with you," Merlin whispered. "Magic, remember? I can help."

"You're badly injured, and I will not put you in harms way," Arthur retaliated. "Whoever is outside could be in league with our tied-up friend. And I've no doubt they are just as dangerous."

Merlin sat up straighter, looking Arthur straight in the eyes. "All the more reason for backup."

The noise outside grew closer- Merlin heard it, and by the tenseness that overtook Arthur's posture, Merlin assumed he did, too. He cursed under his breath. "Fine, alright!" he whispered, then murmured something sounding suspiciously like "stubborn bastard". Merlin only smiled. "Stay behind me," Arthur ordered, then picked up his sword from its spot by his bed, walking slowly towards the door.

Merlin followed, keeping as quiet as he could, a spell ready on his tongue should they need it. It was strange, being able to help Arthur without hiding who he was. He felt vulnerable, but in the best way possible. Now he could fight beside Arthur as a near equal- both bringing all they could to the table.

Despite their current situation, Merlin found himself giddy.

A window sat beside the door they crouched by, and Arthur carefully peeked through the dirtied glass. Merlin did the same.

They were both shocked by what they saw.

"That's a Camelot horse," Merlin finally spoke, looking towards Arthur, and taking in the grin that suddenly enveloped his face.

"Not just one," Arthur murmured, and Merlin looked back out the window, catching sight of a second palace horse.

The better news, however, was who was walking their horses through the forest terrain, towards the hut Merlin and Arthur were crouched in.

Gwaine's mop of dark hair and Percival's incredible stature were a welcomed sight, and Arthur couldn't help but laugh, clapping Merlin on the arm and walking towards the door. Merlin followed, relieved at the unexpected turn of events.

When they swung open the door, Percival and Gwaine unsheathed their swords, turning towards the pair and ready to attack before they noticed who they were. Upon their discovery, Gwaine let out a hearty laugh, and Percival's face took on a wide smile, and the two quickly made their way over to the king and warlock. Gwaine drew them both into a tight hug. At Merlin's hiss towards the rough contact, Gwaine pulled away quickly, inspecting his friend.

"Are you alright?" he asked, a hand on Merlin's arm.

"We need to get him to Gauis," Arthur interrupted before Merlin could insist he was fine. "We've got some luggage, however."

At Gwaine's inquisitive look, Arthur beckoned him and Percival into the hut. The moment they stepped inside, the cupboard in which the bandit had been locked in began shaking, and muffled cries could be heard from within.

"Gods, Arthur, you locked him in a cupboard?" Gwaine exclaimed, a hardly contained smile on his face.

"Trust me, it's far kinder than what I have planned for him in Camelot," Arthur spoke in an angry tone, and unconsciously moved so his shoulder brushed Merlin's- as if the moment the cupboard opened the bound and gagged sorcerer would attack him. Gwaine noticed the action, and raised an eyebrow, turning to give Percival a look.

"Arthur…" Merlin whispered, catching the blonde's attention. "Can I talk to you? In private?"

Arthur searched Merlin's eyes and gave a nod before turning to face his knights. "Bring the bandit to the horses. Careful, he's of magic. Keep him gagged tight. We're to head back to Camelot."

The knights went to it, and Merlin grabbed the cuff of Arthur's sleeve, bringing him outside where they could be away from prying eyes or ears.

"We should let him go," Merlin spoke, and when Arthur's face grew incredulous, he stood his ground. "I can talk to him. I can convince him you are not like your father."

"Merlin, this is not about his magic," Arthur retaliated, his eyes like fire. "He's a murderer. He killed than woman's boy- a defenseless _child_. He will not stop just because we kindly ask him to."

"Let me _try_."

" _Merlin…_ "

The warlock caught his King's gaze, and stared him down, blue meeting blue. They stared at one another for a long time. "Do you trust me?" Merlin asked.

"Of course," Arthur replied in a beat- no trace of hesitation in the remark.

"Then let me do this. Just let me try, Arthur. If I cannot get through to him, you may do what you wish."

Arthur's jaw clenched, and he looked Merlin up and down.

"I don't like this," he finally spoke.

"I know."

"I'm going to be right by you, and I will be armed."

"I know."

"The _slightest_ intention of harm towards you, Merlin, and I will not hesitate to-"

"I know, Arthur. I know."

The King looked worried- his brow wrinkled with anxiety. Merlin wanted to smooth it with his thumb, but avoided doing so. Instead, he brushed his fingers with Arthur's, and they curled into one another- clinging just briefly before letting go.

"You know, I _am_ Albion's most powerful sorcerer," Merlin spoke with an attempt at a smile. "I can protect myself."

Arthur smiled, but it did not reach his eyes. "You could be a god, Merlin," Arthur spoke as they headed back inside, "and I'd still find some way to worry about you."

* * *

After placing Percival and Gwaine on either side of the bandit, Arthur had them cut his binds, but keep his gag on. Once Merlin was stood in front of the sorcerer, Arthur close by his side, he nodded at Gwaine, and the knight removed the gag.

When Merlin heard the first hint of the ancient language on the bandit's tongue, he gave him a stern look.

"Do not even try," he murmured, and his voice was so dark and cold he did not even recognize himself.

The bandit shut his mouth, glaring at Merlin with such defiance he tried not to squirm. "You've picked the wrong side, Emrys," he spat. At the mention of Merlin's ancient name, Gwaine and Percival exchanged confused glances, then questioned Merlin with their eyes. The warlock avoided their gazes.

"There are no sides," Merlin spoke, his tone calm, now.

"Then you are blind and ignorant of what lies around you," the bandit hissed, his eyes angry, fists clenched. There seemed to be tears in his eyes. The knights tightened their hands on the pommel of their swords. "The war between magic and man is an inevitable fate."

"It does not have to be."

The bandit gave a laugh, and he stepped forward. Arthur's hand went to his sword, and he moved closer to Merlin, ready to step in front of him at a moment's notice. "You are a fool, Emrys. And what a shame, too. You would have been a great ally to the druids."

At that, the bandit lifted a hand, and sent Percival and Gwaine flying until the pair hit a wall and slumped to the ground, unconscious.

Everything was a blur of movement.

Arthur drew his sword, and advanced towards the bandit. Before he could attack, though, the sorcerer drew a dagger from his sleeve, and grabbed Merlin by the collar of his tunic, pinning him against a nearby wall.

"Don't move! Lower your weapon!" he shouted at Arthur, placing the blade at Merlin's neck.

Arthur's eyes were wide with panic, and he met Merlin's own. The warlock felt surprisingly calm, the return of his magic seeming to balance him, and he gave a nod. Arthur lowered his sword, though it looked as if doing so were a painful task.

Merlin swallowed, and he felt the cold blade of the dagger graze his throat with the movement. He spoke, "You know very well your magic is no match to mine," Merlin spoke, watching the green eyes that panickedly flickered around the room.

"My blade or your magic- should we find out which is faster, Emrys?" the bandit spoke, and his voice chilled Merlin to the bone.

Talk. Merlin had to talk to the sorcerer. He had to try.

"You do not have to do this- live like this," Merlin spoke, catching the bandit's eyes. "The war on our people has come to an end. We can rest."

"Where? In _Camelot?_ Then what shall I do- wait until the somebody changes their mind? Then I'd be right in their grasp."

"You don't understand-"

"Don't tell me what I don't understand!" the bandit snapped, voice rising. Merlin could detect Arthur's grip tightening on his sword. He held up a finger, silently reassuring him. "I understand the flaws of men all too well, Emrys. They take what they can grasp in their greedy fingers. Then the moment it no longer has a use, they rid themselves of it. It does not matter who you are- if you are of magic, you are not safe."

Merlin shook his head, trying to get the bandit to understand. " Arthur is prophesized to bring peace back to Albion- to restore magic. If you stop this now, you could have a future," Merlin spoke adamantly, staring intently at the sorcerer's face.

"Why? Just so his royal highness can execute me the moment he grows frightened? No, I will not be my parents. I will not use my magic to aid those who'd have me killed."

"Arthur is not a murderer."

"Yet he is bred by one," the bandit retaliated. "And, to a certain degree, we are all the spirits of our parents, living on in different bodies. You have the blood of magic- Arthur, the blood of a killer. How long do you think we must wait before he fulfills his destiny?"

"You're wrong," Merlin replied, and he grew angry at the bandit's accusations.

"Watch your tongue," the sorcerer hissed. "Keep in mind whose blade is at your throat."

Merlin, however, was not frightened. "You are outnumbered. If you kill me, you will not leave here with your life. If you do, you will be on the run for what remains of it. Is this the life you want to live?"

"I haven't a choice," the bandit snapped, "my fate was decided for me the moment Uther murdered my family. I have no say in what happens to me, but I do have a say in _this_ ," he spoke as he dug his blade further, drawing blood from Merlin's neck. Arthur grew visibly impatient, raising his weapon once more.

The warlock did not relent.

"We are all our own people. We choose our own fate," he spoke. "You can decide what happens to you."

The bandit seemed shocked at Merlin's reply, for he grew still, his blade dropping from Merlin's throat. His eyes went clear, and for a moment- _just a moment_ \- Merlin saw a trace of the young boy within him- the child who lost his family. The abandoned boy whose only company was the warmth of magic.

The sorcerer spoke.

"Perhaps… yes, perhaps you're right, Emrys," he murmured, and he blinked a few times before lowering his gaze, his eyes filled with tears. His hands were shaking, they had been for the entirety of their conversation. He seemed defeated. He looked back into Merlin's eyes, and he spoke once more. "I must choose my own fate."

And, at that, the sorcerer sheathed his dagger into his chest, so fast that there was no time for Merlin react.

" _No!_ " the warlock exclaimed, and he could only watch as the bandit's body dropped to the floor.

Merlin sank to his knees, hand grasping onto the bloodied torso of the sorcerer. His green eyes met Merlin's, and they looked at him defiantly before moving towards the ceiling, and glazing over.

Before he could comprehend it, Arthur was at his side, and he held Merlin, putting his arms around him, lifting him up.

"It's alright, Merlin. It's alright," Arthur soothed, drawing him away. "You tried. There was nothing you could do."

Merlin hadn't realized the tears in his eyes until he registered his own gasps of shock, the adrenaline that coursed through him shaking his body.

He suddenly realized Arthur was talking to him.

"Are you alright?" he was asking. "Did he hurt you?" he questioned, fingers flying to the cut on Merlin's throat.

"No. I'm fine," Merlin replied, his voice shaky. Arthur's hand found Merlin's cheek, and he rubbed a thumb over it comfortingly, trying to meet the warlock's gaze. He complied, looking at the King. "I can never save them. My people- they're always dying. I can never save them in time."

Arthur watched Merlin, and he looked as though he were trying to find the right words to say. "He was too lost, Merlin. There was nothing you could have done."

Merlin did not have a response to that. Eventually, Arthur led him to the cot and sat him down so he could check on his knights. The warlock watched the dead sorcerer's body the whole while, his eyes glued to it, his body suddenly feeling overwhelmed with exhaustion.

They always died.

What would Merlin being court sorcerer do to change that?

Perhaps the bandit was right…

The bandit. He never even learned his name. Just another casualty in the war on sorcery. Just another name that would soon be forgotten- struggles that had ended up being for nothing. This boy had lost his family, his home… and he lost himself.

And Merlin was to blame for his fate.

Arthur had gotten the knights to come to, and once he did he helped them on their feet, catching them up on what had happened.

They would find out about Merlin's magic, as well. The whole of Camelot would. What if the people revolted?

What if Merlin wound up just like the bandit?

Arthur seemed to notice Merlin's inner dilemma, for he made it back to his side, placing a hand on his shoulder, looking into his eyes. They spoke through their gaze, and Arthur nodded.

"Let us figure things out back in Camelot, yeah?" Arthur suggested. "We are all in need of some proper rest."

* * *

Merlin buried the boy after convincing Arthur and the knights to let him. He placed a boulder atop the gravesite, as a makeshift tombstone. And, when the others had turned their backs, busy with saddling the horses, Merlin brushed his hand gently atop the stone, whispering a spell, his eyes flashing gold. He had created an inscription in the ancient language:

"To the lost boy: may you find your home."

* * *

The trip back to Camelot was a long one. Merlin was saddled behind Percival, and Arthur behind Gwaine. The whole trip, Merlin avoided Arthur's constant attempts at eye contact, too caught up in his own personal dilemma.

How would he go about his life in Camelot, now? Would his revelation put those he loved in danger?

Would it drive him out of his home?

 _Who would he lose?_

Gwaine commented on Merlin's quietness, and the warlock tried to reassure him of his health, stating he felt fine, and that he just needed some rest. The knight obviously did not buy it, but he let the excuse slide, and instead filled the silence with talk meant to distract Merlin.

When they arrived in Camelot, Arthur offered to escort Merlin to his chambers, but the sorcerer politely declined, giving Arthur a look he hoped was reassuring, and telling him he would see him the next day.

He tried not to dwell on the hurt in Arthur's eyes- his attempt to understand, to reach out to Merlin.

When Merlin made his way back to the physician's chambers, Gauis was ecstatic, enveloping his pupil in a warm hug, then sitting him down so he could tend to his wounds. Merlin washed himself up while Gauis prepared his tonics and tools.

During his checking up of Merlin's shoulder, the warlock spoke.

"Arthur knows."

Gauis looked up instantly, his eyebrow raised so high it nearly melded with his hair. "About your magic?" he asked, and his voice was winded with shock.

Merlin nodded.

" _Merlin_ ," the old man chastised, "however did he find out?" Gauis asked, setting his things aside so he could focus on Merlin.

And Merlin told him everything- the group of bandits, the river, the sorcerer. He left out the kiss Arthur and Merlin shared, but he confessed everything else- the position of court sorcerer, Merlin's initial relief, his later anxieties. Gauis took it all in, and when Merlin finished, he waited for his often earned wise words from the old physician.

Those did not come, this time.

"Well, my boy, in bringing a good name to magic, you've already done the impossible. The rest should come easy."

Merlin shook his head, letting out an exasperated sigh as Gauis finished patching up his shoulder. "It will not. I'm not even sure it's the right thing to do. Perhaps secrecy is the only thing protecting me- protecting _Arthur_."

Gauis gave him the look he normally does when Merlin says something quite ridiculous. "Merlin, you are in the midst of a dramatic change- one that affects the whole of Albion. This will not be a simple task. Many will oppose- war might even break. But it is a change that is necessary for the future of this kingdom, and the people of it."

Ah, there were the words of wisdom.

Merlin's gaze went to the floor. "Is it worth it? Is my comfort worth risking such an imbalance in what I've been working to bring to Albion? It is not the right time for me to reveal myself to the world."

"It has been time since the moment you were born, Merlin. Magic is nothing to be ashamed of- it is a part of you, an energy that flows and breathes. To deny it is to deny who you are, and that is a very foolish endeavor. You have been waiting long enough. Don't you believe it is time you and Arthur fulfill your destiny?"

* * *

The next morning, Merlin found himself standing outside Arthur's bedchambers. He stood there for what felt like ages, contemplating as to whether or not he should just knock and enter.

Luckily, he did not have to make that decision, for the door opened on its own, and Merlin was suddenly face to face with the King.

"Merlin!" Arthur exclaimed, shocked. "Er, come in."

Merlin just nodded, walking in quickly, anxiously surveying his surroundings as if he'd never been in the room, before. Everything felt new.

Everything _was_ new- different. No prepared lies in the back of his mind- no tense shoulders, ready to secretly defend Arthur with his magic.

"Exactly how long were you standing at the door?" Arthur tried to joke as he made his way to Merlin, keeping a careful distance, although it looked as though he wanted desperately to close the space between them.

Merlin traced a finger over Arthur's chair, avoiding his eyes and instead studying the woodwork. "Were you headed somewhere?"

"Nothing important," Arthur was quick to respond.

"You sure?"

"Of course."

Merlin was quiet, realizing he'd been fretting so much in his thoughts he hadn't even come up with something to say.

Arthur was close to him, now, inevitably drawn towards his, and his fingers placed themselves lightly at Merlin's hip. "Are you alright?" Arthur asked, his voice softer than Merlin had ever heard it.

Merlin began to nod before he stopped. Then he sighed, and shook his head. "No. No, this is not alright."

Arthur's hand froze, and he drew it away from Merlin. "What do you mean?"

"Not us. My magic, revealing it- I'm not sure it's a good idea," Merlin tried to explain, looking up and into Arthur's eyes, now. "We're not ready to deal with the chaos that will follow. It will only bring you more danger."

"And it's about time we've endured that, rather than hide behind these walls from people who are scared of _us_ ," Arthur retaliated, his eyes angry. "My father made the entire kingdom believe them to be monsters. That does not mean it is what they are. And the people will accept my word as a change that is necessary. Those who do not will not get in our way. It is time the people of Camelot live without fear of execution for a fate they cannot control."

Merlin searched Arthur's eyes, knowing through the way they were set that there was no use in trying to convince him of the dangers. "Do you really believe now is the right time?"

Arthur shrugged at that, letting out a sigh. "If not now, then when? There's no right time, but all I truly know is you've been waiting long enough. And I believe in what we're standing for. Don't you?"

After some hesitation, Merlin had to nod. "Of course."

Arthur met him face to face, now, taking his hands and giving him a reassuring look. "Then have faith that we can see this through. Have faith in _me_."

Merlin could not help but smile. "I always have."

* * *

At Merlin's appointment as court sorcerer, there were protests that lasted well into the night, then on for weeks- ones that involved fires, fights, and dangerous objects being thrown at Camelot's gates. Arthur's guards had been increased, and he appointed Merlin with just as much supervision, despite the fact that he kept reassuring Arthur he could take care of himself.

The knights had been incredibly accepting of Merlin's reveal, as had Gwen. In fact, it made Merlin impossibly closer to his friends. It was an incredible feeling, not having to hide who he was all the time, and it took some getting used to.

However, not everything went so smoothly. If possible, Merlin's paranoia had increased, and eventually he was right to feel so, because one of the many people of Camelot who had been making threats towards the warlock managed to follow through. It involved a poison, Arthur's unbridled rage at the poor sap who had administered it, an oddly familiar task of Arthur retrieving the antidote, and Merlin's forever imbedded aversion to poached eggs.

Shortly after the incident, Merlin was moved to chambers by Arthur's, Gauis was given a bigger and more secure quarters for his practice, and there were so many meetings Merlin's tongue had grown tired of talking. Despite the fact that he had been in all these meetings with Arthur, he felt as though he hardly saw the King. Their encounters were formal, as neither were very keen on making their more intimate relationship known, as of yet.

If there was a relationship, at all.

Weeks had passed since the kiss in the cabin, and, since then, the two have not shared more than a brush of fingers or a lingering glance. After two months had gone by, Merlin wondered if he had possibly imagined the whole thing.

Obviously, Arthur had felt the same way, for after a particularly long and arduous council held in the court, one that had drawn late into the night and wore out every bit of patience in Merlin's bones, Arthur demanded Merlin meet him at his bedchambers.

"Arthur, can't it wait until morning?" Merlin asked through a yawn.

"No, this is an urgent matter. Now stop complaining," the King ordered, and Merlin knew better than to argue with the clotpole, so he went ahead and followed, his limbs heavy and eyes lidded with sleep.

When they reached Arthur's chambers, he sent the guards away, and closed the doors. Merlin raised an eyebrow at the action- Arthur had been so serious about Merlin's constant guarding, He hadn't seen Arthur relaxed within the past months, let alone dismiss guards in the middle of the night.

"Are you alright?" Merlin instantly asked, unable to help feeling worried.

Arthur sat down on his bed in an exhausted manner, his muscles suddenly loosening for the first time in ages. He looked solemn. Merlin instinctively made his way to Arthur's side, sitting by him and placing a hesitant hand on his shoulder.

"Back when we were looking for that bandit… the sorcerer. You asked me what was different about about the woman who had come asking for our help. Do you remember?"

Merlin nodded. "Yes."

He watched Arthur intently, not daring to make a sound, lest he lose this rare, intimate moment. Arthur never opened up, and Merlin wondered why he chose to do so now, of all times.

The King's face looked more serious than Merlin had ever seen it. "She looked like my mother," Arthur spoke, and his voice was so heavy Merlin felt the instinct to envelop the King in a hug. "I felt as though it were… a _sign_ of some sort. That I had to go."

Merlin was quiet, waiting for Arthur to say more. "I understand," he replied. "I would have done the same."

The King was silent. "I never did apologize for bringing you along… you almost lost your life."

"I made the decision to join you on my own, Arthur. You cannot blame yourself for that."

"I could have made you stay in Camelot."

"And you know I would have followed, regardless," Merlin replied, his heart jumping when he managed to bring a smile to Arthur's face.

"Then I suppose I should say thank you."

Merlin raised his eyebrows, a goofy smile taking place on his lips. "What was that?"

"You heard me."

"No, I'm not sure I did. Could you repeat that?"

Arthur shoved Merlin lightly, a smile on his face. "Thank you. Really, Merlin- thank you."

Merlin returned the smile. "Of course," he replied. After a moment of silence, he spoke again, "You know, I'm glad it happened. The whole bandit situation. I don't regret it."

Arthur met Merlin's eyes at that, and he scanned Merlin's face, his eyes flicking to Merlin's lips more than a few times. "You don't?"

Merlin shook his head. "Not one second."

Arthur licked his lips, and Merlin followed the action with his eyes, unconsciously doing the same. "So… that moment in the hut-"

"I still want that," Merlin interrupted bravely, his eyes meeting Arthur's. "Do you?" he asked, suddenly filled with embarrassment at his reveal.

Arthur answered in the best way possible, leaning in and closing the gap between the two, his lips finding Merlin's, and his warm palm cupping the back of the warlock's neck. Merlin pushed into the kiss, wanting more- he'd been waiting _so long_. Arthur's lips were warm and passionate, yet unsteady- exploring and learning the grooves and form of Merlin's lips, cradling them, running a shy tongue along Merlin's lower lip, sending a shock of nerves through it. Merlin had never been handled in such a gentle way- he'd never felt such a strong need in his heart, one that pulled him closer and closer to the man in his arms.

Nosing Merlin away just the slightest bit, so the warlock could still feel the blonde's hot breath gust onto his lips, Arthur met Merlin's eyes, blurry from their close proximity. " _Yes_ ," he finally replied, his voice filled with a lust that sent a shiver through the warlock, stirring a torrent of heat through his gut.

Merlin replied with a low hum, desperately trying to bring Arthur closer to him, their chests colliding, arms bumping into one another, and legs getting in the way. Eventually, Arthur laid Merlin down on the bed, crawling over him and peppering kisses along Merlin's throat, up to his jaw, where his teeth nibbled before continuing to the back of Merlin's neck, underneath his ear. He kissed gently along Merlin's earlobe, taking it into his mouth then pulling away, his breath ghosting along the sensitive flesh.

" _Arthur_ ," Merlin gasped, hand clenching tight onto the King's tunic, bringing his face up to his lips so the blonde would stop teasing him. He kissed him hard, and when Arthur pulled away, he brought his lips back to Merlin's ears and whispered.

"That's _Sire_ , to you," he spoke, and his voice was laced with held back laughter.

Merlin laughed, burying his face in the King's neck, his nose nestling in the warm skin there. "You _prat!_ " he exclaimed, trying to control his laughter.

Arthur pulled away, a goofy smile on his face as he watched Merlin laugh. "I couldn't help it," he admitted. "Perfect opportunity."

"Well, you've ruined the mood, now."

"Have I?"

"Yes."

"Really?"

"Afraid so."

Arthur hummed thoughtfully. "Shame," he spoke, and his lips were so close to Merlin's the warlock could not help but glance down at them, tilting his face up to meet him. Arthur smiled slyly, his tongue touching his teeth as his own eyes watched Merlin. "Suppose we'll just… have to go to sleep... in our own chambers… alone… fun while it lasted, though, right?"

"Stop talking and kiss me, _Sire_ ," Merlin ordered.

Arthur happily obliged.

* * *

Gwaine sighed heavily as he walked through the halls of the castle, on his way to the fields. Arthur had put him in charge of training the new knights, and despite all the bitching and moaning he could muster, _his Highness_ didn't relent. So now here Gwaine was, at the asscrack of dawn, off to stand in the cold air for gods know how long.

Perhaps he should not have gone drinking, last night.

Just as the hungover knight was contemplating his iffy moral decisions, the door to Arthur's chambers cracked open, and a very underdressed Merlin snuck out, slipping on his tunic, then checking the halls.

He froze when he saw Gwaine.

"'Morning," the warlock spoke, his face paler than usual, if possible.

Gwaine held back his remarks, a sly smile on his face- he was definitely awake now, that was for sure. "Morning, mate. Sleep well?"

Merlin's face went bright red, and he seemed to choke on his words before he cleared his throat and spoke.

"Er, I was just… checking for… woodworm?" he tried.

Gwaine gave a adamant nod, putting a serious look on, though he wondered how serious he looked since he was using all his will to keep his laughs in his throat. "Ah, pesky rascals. Always seem to infest Arthur's bed, yeah?"

Merlin grew silent. He looked around before meeting the knight's eyes. "Gwaine?"

"Yes?"

The warlock shuffled his feet awkwardly. "Could you maybe… er, keep this… quiet?"

Gwaine gave him a questioning look at that, and walked on, patting him on the shoulder.

"Keep what quiet?"

Merlin smiled gratefully before escaping to his chambers.

And when Gwaine was well away, he let out the laughs he had worked quite hard in holding back, absolutely giddy at the situation he had found himself in. He let out a chuckling sigh, calming his giggles before he spoke.

"It's about bloody time."

* * *

 **And there's the end of the fic! Got it put up so fast for the lovely Karovie! Excuse any mistakes you might happen upon, I wrote this quite fast.**

 **Might post a crack!fic ending to this some time soon… one requested by the aforementioned Karovie.**

 **So you guys have that to look forward to! ;)**

 **Enjoy and Goodbye, lovelies!**


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